


by any other name

by littlesnowpea



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 19:30:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10600710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesnowpea/pseuds/littlesnowpea
Summary: The beast—if it was indeed a beast, and the light was far too low to see—was enormous, hulking, truly a giant. He towered above LeFou’s short stature, was bigger than five of him put together, and the mere sound of his breathing was enough to make LeFou feel faint.Miraculously, he did not faint, and craned his neck to try and look the thing in the eyes.[gafou beauty and the beast au]





	

**Author's Note:**

> i couldn't stop thinking about this. i think gafou is so unhealthy BUT I COULDN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS. 
> 
> lefou's real name is borrowed from this fic: (http://archiveofourown.org/works/10430250) which i really enjoy and love a lot SHOUT OUT
> 
> beta'd by sunflashes, all remaining mistakes mine
> 
> i speak four languages but french is not one of them, so forgive me and correct me if i am mistaken in anything
> 
> enjoy!

LeFou awoke with a splitting headache and the fading remnants of a dream curdling his aching heart. He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes as the damn rooster that had awoken him crowed again, loudly--right outside his window. 

“Enough, Hei-Hei,” LeFou groaned, but Hei-Hei never listened to him on a good day and today was not shaping up to be a good day, if the pain in his head was any indication. 

Hei-Hei crowed again and LeFou’s bare feet hit the chilly stone floor as he hauled himself out of bed to face another day in the village. He banged his shutters open and tossed grain from a sack on his windowsill down to Hei-Hei to shut him up before the neighbors complained and threatened to make him into soup. 

Again. 

The neighbors weren’t that friendly with him. LeFou assumed it was that he was unmarried and kept to himself, or perhaps it was that LeFou had the awful tendency to stutter over his words and blush and stare at the ground. Or even more possibly, a combination of all of those things. 

It did not endear him to the town of villagers, who stared at him and whispered sodomite under their breaths as he passed. It didn’t help that LeFou struggled with literacy, with reading the most basic of words, and constantly slipped Agatha his extra coins, blankets in the winter, some food. It just made him an easier target. 

Stanley often told him he would fit in better if he got married, or if he stopped befriending people like Agatha, but LeFou knew he couldn’t. Mostly, the prospect of a wife did not appeal to him. LeFou didn’t know if he wasn’t ready for marriage although he was twenty-one, or, more fearfully, if he actually was a sodomite like the townspeople whispered. 

More than once he’d caught himself staring at a few men in the town, Stanley included. He feared that perhaps it was true. 

“Good morning,” he said softly, pushing the door to his sister’s room open. She was all of thirteen, ten when LeFou’s parents died. As such, she was all his to raise. Unlike LeFou, she’d taken a shine to reading, encouraged by Mademoiselle Belle down by the washing pool. LeFou had taken care to line the walls of her room with shelves and shelves of books, all of which she admired and devoured with relentless hunger. 

This was probably another reason he was disliked by the villagers. Lord knew that Belle was plenty whispered about. 

“G’Morning, _frère_ ,” his sister mumbled, her hair a mess as she sat up. Sophie hated her long hair. She wished to cut it short, like a boy, but it was the one thing LeFou insisted on. He feared if he allowed her hair to be cropped short, it would be the last straw and the townspeople would ensure Sophie would be taken from him and “raised properly.”

He doubted he would be able to handle it if that happened. 

Anyway, Sophie was due to travel to Paris today--her first trip alone--with Mademoiselle Belle, to see the sights. It was far past the time she should have been awake and prepared. 

“ _Mon cherie_ ,” LeFou said softly, tugging the blankets off of her to avoid tempting her to fall back asleep. “It is time you were up and dressed. Belle would not like to be kept waiting, I am sure.”

“The Mademoiselle sleeps in, too,” Sophie grumbled, but stood up anyway, brushing her tangled brown locks off her face. “I am awake.”

“Get dressed,” LeFou urged. “The time is waning!”

“ _Oui_ , monsieur,” Sophie teased, and LeFou ruffled her messy hair before retreating. 

LeFou was halfway through his own breakfast, Sophie’s resting on the table waiting for her, when she finally emerged. 

“I am ready, _frere!_ ” she announced, and LeFou hid a smile behind his spoon. 

“Indeed you are,” he praised. “Eat quickly, Belle will be here any moment.”

Sophie obliged, sitting and practically wolfing down her porridge while LeFou laughed. 

“What’s so funny in here?” Belle’s voice called from the front door. LeFou stood, pulling the door open with a smile. 

“ _Bonjour_ ,” he greeted, stepping back to allow her in. “Sophie is ready, thank you.”

“As I said, it is no problem,” Belle said. “It’s a day’s ride, however, so we should head out.”

“ _Oui!_ ” Sophie said and scrambled to her feet. “I am ready!”

“Let’s go, then,” Belle said, and wrapped an arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “See you in two days, LeFou.”

“I shall,” LeFou smiled, nodding, and Sophie graced him with a wave as she headed for the door. LeFou shook his head and gathered up their dishes. 

Perhaps he would work in the garden while the sun was out. 

——

The galloping of horses pulled LeFou’s attention off the cabbages and onto the narrow cobblestone road running next to his house. He stood, brushing loose soil off his shirt and pulling off his thick gardening gloves. 

“Mademoiselle?” he asked as soon as he recognized Belle, panting, her hair askew and dress rumpled. His heart slowly sank into his stomach. Sophie was not with her. 

“Monsieur,” she gasped desperately. “I tried to stop it! It took Sophie!”

“Stop what?” he demanded. “Where is she, Belle?”

“There is a castle deep in the forest,” Belle exclaimed, sliding off Phillipe. “It began snowing as we passed. Snowing! In June! So we stopped to ask for some cloaks, but Sophie picked a flower and this…thing, it grabbed her and threw me down some stairs. I knew I needed help.”

“I’m going to her,” LeFou said immediately. “The town will never believe you, but I do. I must retrieve her. Can you lead the way?”

“Anything, Monsieur,” Belle said, tears in her eyes as she grasped LeFou’s hand. “I am so sorry, LeFou. I am so sorry for causing this.”

“It’s not your fault, Belle,” LeFou assured, mounting his own horse as Belle climbed back upon hers. “Lead the way, please, and hurry.”

Belle spurred Phillipe on and LeFou followed, quickly leaving Villeneuve behind as their horses raced out of town, their hooves like drumbeats in LeFou’s chest. 

——

True to Belle’s word, it began to snow just outside the crumbling castle. LeFou shivered and drew up on Petit’s reins to slow him a little as he squinted to see through the thickly falling snow. The shape of the castle was monstrous, dark against the grey sky, and foreboding. LeFou glanced at Belle before shaking himself and urging Petit on.

The castle seemed to grow in size as he approached it, and LeFou felt uneasy, and a sense of deja-vu took over him as he passed into its shadow. Hadn’t he been here before? But that was impossible, he would remember ever having been in a castle. Nobody invited the fool to the palace.

LeFou slid off Petit and led him to the side, ready to run if needed. If there was really a monster, a beast like Belle had said. 

The sinking feeling in LeFou’s stomach believed it. 

He eyed a large branch lying a few feet away in the snow and he snatched it up, desperate for something with which to defend himself against whatever may be lurking in that castle. 

“Let’s go,” he said softly, both to himself and Belle. With deep trepidation, he started up the wide staircase to the tall front door, the snow settling gently in his hair and on his ice-cold cheeks. 

LeFou felt the strong urge to knock, the politeness drilled into him by his _maman_ , but if there was a monster, he didn’t want to give it any notice. With a deep breath, he reached forward and pushed the door open, the ominous creak it made sending chills down his spine.

The interior was dark and drabby, with wallpaper peeling off the walls and slashed paintings hanging crooked. A mountain of broken furniture took up most of the floor to his right, and the rest was illuminated only by the light of a candelabra sitting on a rough wood table. 

So. Someone must live here, then, though LeFou was hard pressed to imagine what kind of person chose to live in these conditions. Perhaps it really was a monster. 

Belle picked up the candelabra, and no sooner had it left the table then LeFou heard a small gasp, and a cry of _no._

“Did you hear that?” he asked Belle, because he was positive he’d heard it and equally positive he wasn’t a madman. Belle looked frozen in fear.

“This sounds mad,” she began, which was not reassuring. “But I could have sworn it was the clock talking.”

“That does sound mad,” LeFou said, instead of agreeing like he wanted to. Before he could ask any further questions, coughing echoed down the stairs and LeFou recognized it as Sophie at once. 

“Sophie,” he whispered. “She’s up those stairs, Belle, we must find her!”

Belle was ahead of him, taking the stairs two at a time, chasing the sound of LeFou’s sister’s coughing until they both rounded a curve and came face to face with a dank, dark cell, snow drifting in through the window. 

“Sophie!” LeFou exclaimed. “Sophie, are you ok, _mon cherie?_ ” 

His sister’s eyes grew wide. 

“Mademoiselle Belle!” she said. “ _Mon frere!_ You must leave, you must go! He is coming!”

“Who is coming, _cherie?_ ” LeFou demanded. “You’re freezing, we must get you out of here. Are you alright?”

“The monster,” Sophie said. “He said I am to stay here forever.”

“I will not let you,” LeFou said. “Come, stand. We must open this door. Quickly!”

Belle felt along the damp wall until she found a lever, pulling it hard until the door to the cell sprang open with a low groan. 

“He will have heard that!” Belle hissed. “Come, Sophie, let’s go!”

Sophie rushed out of the cell under Belle’s arm, and the three of them raced down the stairs, towards the front door. 

A terrible roar filled the air and almost made LeFou lose his footing, but thankfully, he did not fall, though his heart nearly stopped at the inhuman noise. He urged Belle and his sister onward, crashing through the door and down the steps. 

The roaring followed them, and LeFou was far too afraid to turn around and face it, instead stopping quickly at their horses. Belle climbed upon hers and LeFou lifted Sophie up to her. 

“Go,” he ordered. “Quickly, to town. Speak of this to no one. I will follow.”

“ _Frere, non!_ ” Sophie cried, but Belle understood. 

“If you do not make it back,” she whispered. “I will care for Sophie in your absence.”

“ _Merci_ ,” LeFou nodded. “Go! Now!”

Belle spurred Phillipe on and the horse pounded across the grounds towards the gate in the distance. LeFou took a deep breath, squared his shoulders. 

He stayed behind to buy them more time. If all three tried to escape, the beast would give chase. This way, they would have a chance and perhaps LeFou would get away in time. 

It was all he could do. 

Heavy footsteps stopped behind him, and a low grunt filled him with dread. Still, he had no other choice but to be brave, even as most of him begged to remain cowardly. 

He turned. 

The beast—if it was indeed a beast, and the light was far too low to see—was enormous, hulking, truly a giant. He towered above LeFou’s short stature, was bigger than five of him put together, and the mere sound of his breathing was enough to make LeFou feel faint. 

Miraculously, he did not faint, and craned his neck to try and look the thing in the eyes. 

“You stayed put,” the thing growled, voice almost distorted. LeFou glanced around but very determinedly did not look behind him. “It’s almost admirable. Stupid, yes. But admirable. Do you think I don’t see your women leaving?”

“They are not my women,” LeFou corrected, and another miracle it was to hear his voice sound defiant, almost unafraid. “They are their own. And how do you answer, kidnapping a thirteen year old child?”

“She is a thief,” the beast said, and LeFou stiffened. 

“Liar,” he snapped. “My sister is no thief. You’re a monster.”

“I am, am I?” the beast snarled. “This monster is giving you a choice. Get on that horse, if you will, and I will chase you all down. Remain here, and I will let the thief and the woman go.”

“Remain here?” LeFou asked hesitantly. The beast huffed, and a great wash of air passed over LeFou’s face. 

“Yes, remain here,” the beast hissed. “Are you a fool? You will stay here as my prisoner, in place of your thieving sister. Or you can get on your horse and try your luck, however much that may be.”

LeFou allowed himself to glance over his shoulder, but Sophie and Belle were not even halfway to the gate, let alone beyond it. He looked back up at the monster and swallowed. 

“Do I have your word?” he asked. “Your holy promise you will let them go?”

“I am no liar,” the monster said. “You have my word.”

LeFou took a deep breath, and nodded. 

The beast brought one mighty paw up and crashed it down upon LeFou’s head, and LeFou remembered nothing more.

———

LeFou woke up some time later, the rising sun shining in his eyes, a splitting headache pounding at his skull. He felt his forehead and rubbed away a streak of dried blood with a grimace before sitting up and looking around.

He appeared to be in some kind of cell--It looked somewhat familiar. 

Unbidden, flashes of what must have happened last night rise in his head, and he remembered suddenly, with awful clarity, his sister behind these very bars, her eyes wide and desperate. He scrambled to the barred window, peering outside. 

It was far too late, however. With the rising sun, the darkness of the previous night had vanished, and with it his sister and Belle.

LeFou could only pray they’d escaped, that the beast had held true to his word and let them go in his place. 

_The lever_ , LeFou suddenly remembered, and he stuck his arm out of the bars of the cell door and felt along the wall beside him, fingers searching, searching—

They brushed against something cool and metal, but it was just out of reach, just too far, just—

The groaning sound echoed through the hall as the door shuddered open. LeFou scrambled back, eyeing the door with suspicion. The beast did not immediately appear, intent on eviscerating him, so he pushed himself to his feet, edging towards the opening. 

“’Allo!” a cheerful voice greeted him, and LeFou froze. “Monsieur! I am Lumiere! Your host for your time here!”

“Lumiere?” LeFou asked slowly. “Can you come into the light? I cannot see you.”

“Monsieur, I am the light!” the voice chuckled, and LeFou looked wildly around for something to defend himself with, but found nothing. He edged forward, toward the door and the voice, with bated breath and an unrelenting desire to run. 

“’Allo!” the voice said again, and LeFou found himself face to face with a talking candlestick. 

“You—you’re a candle,” he said, a little dumbly, and the candle seemed to almost roll its eyes. “And you….can talk. All right. This is fine. If you’ll excuse me—”

LeFou turned to make a mad dash for it but found his way blocked by a clock currently slowly climbing the stairs and panting. 

This is a dream, LeFou thought firmly. Any moment and I’ll be awake in Villenueve.

He never dreamed he would miss the town he lived in, but faced with a sentient clock and a talking candle, he’d go back in a heartbeat.

“Monsieur,” the talking candle said, and LeFou remembered with sudden clarity that his name, the thing had a name, was Lumiere. 

LeFou held his hands up defensively.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he said as gently as possible. “I just want to go home.”

“Ahh, unfortunate,” Lumiere said. “We cannot let you go. But we are here to show you to your room.”

“My room,” LeFou said softly, a little dumbstruck. “I’m a prisoner, and you’re giving me a room.”

“Not a prisoner!” Lumiere said, sounding genuinely insulted. “A guest! Our guest!”

“Technically a prisoner,” the clock muttered, and Lumiere _tsked_ at him. 

“Enough, Cogsworth, you old fool,” Lumiere said dismissively. “Come, Monsieur—what is your name?”

“LeFou,” LeFou said uncertainly. Lumiere sniffed. 

“LeFou?” he asked. “Nonsense. I will not call anyone by that name. Your real name, _mon ami_ , please.”

“That is what people call me,” LeFou said, instead of admitting his real name. “It doesn’t matter.”

“ _Mon ami_ , names have power,” Lumiere said softly. “You just let me know when you’re ready to share your name. Would you like some tea? Mrs. Potts!”

LeFou wondered if perhaps Mrs. Potts was a sentient teapot, and immediately was proven correct as a teapot and teacup on a tray came zooming around the corner to rest at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Is that our guest, Lumiere?” the teapot called. “Come, come, you must be hungry! I’ll make you some tea.”

“Thank you?” LeFou called hesitantly, and the teapot began steaming. 

“Oh, it’s not a problem, pet!” she trilled. “What’s your name?”

“He says it’s LeFou, but that’s awful,” Lumiere said, jumping down the stairs two at a time, the clock following at a much slower pace. “He is our friend and we do not disparage friends, so. Come! Your room awaits, _mon ami!_ ”

LeFou had a little time to consider the merits of being friends with talking household objects and decided he probably belonged in the asylum. Still, they were at least kind to him. 

He stooped down and picked up Lumiere as gently as possible and made his way down the stairs and back into the crumbling entryway of the castle once again. 

“To the left!” Lumiere announced, gesturing with one metal arm. LeFou obliged, turning left to mount the stairs to the left, craning his neck up to see where he could possibly be going. 

“Do not be nervous, _mon ami_ ,” Lumiere said grandly. LeFou raised an eyebrow. 

“Nervous?” he said dryly. “Why would I be nervous? Everything in this castle talks and I’m being held prisoner by a beast.”

“Guest!” Lumiere insisted. LeFou cracked a grin. 

“A guest who cannot leave?” he asked, and Lumiere deflated slightly. 

“Please, sir,” a tiny voice spoke up, and LeFou looked quickly down at the tray holding the teapot and the cup. 

“Yes?” he asked uncertainly, and the teacup hopped up onto the ledge and peered up at him. It was kind of cute. 

“Master is not that bad,” the teacup said firmly. “He’s scary, but not that bad.”

“He locked me in a tower, Monsieur…” LeFou said, trailing off. The teacup almost seemed to bristle. 

“My name’s Chip!” the teacup announced. “And you are?”

“LeFou,” LeFou said, before Lumiere could interrupt. “You don’t think your Master is so terrible?”

“No, Monsieur LeFou,” Chip said softly. “He was the best, before.”

“Before what?” LeFou asked, and Lumiere wriggled out of his grasp. 

“Never you mind, _ami!_ ” he said hurriedly. “Come come!” 

LeFou raised an eyebrow but followed to boisterous candlestick up the stairs to his room. 

As they stepped into the hall up the stairs, LeFou noticed an ornate sign above a wide wooden door and cocked his head. 

He couldn’t make out the letters, they were too curly, but it looked inviting, almost like it was beckoning him in. 

“What’s over there?” he asked Lumiere, who stiffened. 

“Nothing that concerns you,” he said in a tone that suggested the exact opposite. “To the right, if you would!”

LeFou obliged, casting one more glance at the tempting doors before walking through a different set to a room that took his breath away. 

“Nice, _non?_ ” Lumiere asked, from his place on the floor. “Master wanted you to have the nicest room in the castle.”

“Oh he did, did he?” LeFou asked wryly, but looked around in appreciation nonetheless. His own room at home was sparse, basic, but this was no such thing. Gold filigree decorated the walls, and a chandelier with full, unused candles hung above a bed three times the size of his own 

Sophie would love a bed like this, he thought, and his heart ached. He would never see her again. He could only pray that God would see past his sin and allow Sophie to live a free life. 

“Is something the matter, monsieur?” Lumiere asked, and LeFou sighed. 

“I am stuck here,” he answered. “I may never see my sister again, and all for what? A flower?”

Lumiere was silent a moment, and LeFou sighed again, looking over at the shuttered window. 

“Sometimes things work out the way they are supposed to, _mon ami_ ,” Lumiere said softly. “Even though it may hurt at first.”

“Why is your master a beast?” LeFou asked. “And why can you talk?”

“A curse,” Lumiere answered. “But there’s nothing you can do about it. Relax. Dinner will be served soon.”

LeFou nodded as Lumiere made his way to the door and pushed it open. As soon as the candlestick was out of sight, LeFou rushed to the window, pulling the shutters open and peering out and down with a grimace. 

Much too tall. If he was to escape, it certainly would not be this way unless he could find rope of some kind. Perhaps if he were to wait until everyone was asleep—but no. This castle was clearly alive. It could bar him in, and the beast would certainly not like that. 

Loud shouting from downstairs drew his attention and he frowned, edging toward the partially-open door and poking his head out. He could just make out what the argument was about, and the subject appeared to be him. Why was he not surprised?

“You allowed that boy a room?” LeFou recognized the beast’s guttural voice immediately and cringed. “What were you thinking, you fool?”

“I was thinking I don’t want to be a candelabra for the rest of my life!” Lumiere snapped, and LeFou heard the soft thud of what must be one of Lumiere’s arms smacking the beast. LeFou suppressed a giggle. “And you do not want to be that thing forever, _non?_ We have to break the spell!”

“I have told you,” the beast growled. “The spell will never be broken. Look at me. Who could ever--”

“You must try!” Lumiere shouted. “For all of us, you must try! And this boy is the best way to do it! Do you truly not think we don’t know that your preferences extend beyond just women?”

The beast huffed and LeFou found himself raising an eyebrow. So, another sodomite?

“How do I try?” the beast asked, considerably calmer. LeFou strained to hear the carrying voices now that they were no longer shouting. 

“Invite him to dinner!” Lumiere announced. “Show him another side of you, the side we know. All he knows is his captor.”

“And you think he would agree to this?” the beast scoffed. “You’re right. All he knows is his captor.”

“You must convince him,” LeFou recognized the clock’s voice. “There is something in him longing for a friend, we can feel it. Do you know what he introduced himself to us as?”

“LeFou,” Lumiere said. “The fool. That is the name he goes by. I can’t imagine he gave it to himself.”

“LeFou?” the beast demanded. “What kind of person named another that?”

“The kind he must be used to,” Lumiere said. “Be a friend first, master. Be a friend.”

“Where is he?” the beast asked, and LeFou quickly withdrew his head and closed the door to his room as metallic footsteps sounded on the stairs. 

Heavy footsteps stopped just outside LeFou’s door and then, three booming knocks echoed in the room. 

“Monsieur,” the beast’s voice was different now, and LeFou found himself listening despite his best intentions not to. “Would you join me for dinner?”

“You want me to have dinner with you?” LeFou demanded. “After you’ve taken me prisoner?”

The beast snarled, then anxious voices that LeFou couldn’t make out interrupted and LeFou heard the beast take deep breaths.

“I would like,” the beast said evenly. “To explain myself.”

“What’s there to explain?” LeFou snapped. “You took my sister and then me captive.”

“Fine!” the beast roared. “Starve for all I care!”

LeFou heard the thundering footsteps storm away and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. There was a moment of silence, and then the door creaked open and Lumiere stepped inside. 

“I would like to apologize for the Master,” he said gently. “Ever since the curse...well, even before, he has had a temper. You were in your right to refuse.”

“Tell me about the curse,” LeFou asked, sitting on the edge of his bed as Lumiere hopped up beside him. “Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t tell you the full story,” Lumiere said. “But a witch decided the Master needed to learn a lesson. So we are waiting for him to learn. It has been a while.”

“What lesson?” LeFou asked, and Lumiere shrugged one metal shoulder. 

“That, only the Master knows,” and LeFou could tell the candle was lying, but decided not to press. “But he needs company as much as you do. He is down for dinner. Might you please join him?”

“Alright,” LeFou sighed. “He needs to learn to control his temper.”

“Perhaps, _mon ami_ , you could teach him,” Lumiere said, and LeFou cracked a grin. Somehow, he doubted it. 

——-

LeFou headed down the stairs with a growing sense of trepidation in his stomach. He had no idea what to expect from the beast—would he be even pleased to see him? Did he know he was coming? Would he yell and scream and—

“Welcome,” the beast said as LeFou rounded the corner into the dining area and halted just inside the door, looking at the beast with apprehension. “I thank you for joining me.”

Despite the words, the beast’s voice was tight, still angry. Fine then. LeFou squared his shoulders and took the seat across the long table from the beast, pulling the napkin off the plate and onto his lap. 

He swallowed back any words he wanted to say and smiled a little nervously as a sentient coat rack placed a steaming plate in front of him. He breathed in the scent and his stomach growled. He’d almost forgotten in the excitement of it all that he hadn’t eaten all day. 

“You’re hungry,” the beast said, and LeFou glanced up at him, a little surprised to find the anger gone as quickly as it had appeared. “Eat.”

LeFou considered refusing, but spite was not a filling meal, so he forced back his pride and ripped off a piece of bread, barely refraining from groaning in satisfaction at the taste. 

“Lumiere says you call yourself LeFou,” the beast said conversationally, as if any part of this was normal, as if this was a conversation LeFou had every day. “I cannot imagine that being your Christian name. So what is it?”

“LeFou,” LeFou said sourly. “What’s yours? I can’t imagine calling you beast for the rest of forever.”

The beast scowled and his paws curled into fists where they rested on the table. LeFou was suddenly afraid again. The beast had a temper unlike any LeFou had seen. 

“I am no beast,” the beast snarled. “And I will tell you mine when you tell me yours.”

“That’s mature,” LeFou snorted. “I’ve already given you mine.”

“LeFou is no name!” the beast hissed, and LeFou felt color rise in his cheeks. True, it wasn’t his given name, but it was what everyone in Villenueve called him, anyway. It didn’t matter that they didn’t mean it in a friendly way. 

“Who says it’s your job to decide?” LeFou snapped hotly. “I’m your prisoner, or have you forgotten? What makes you want to name me so?”

“You are my guest!” the beast roared, slamming his fist on the table, the force of which knocked over his wine glass, the wine inside spilling across the table like slick blood. LeFou stared defiantly at the beast, though his heart raced and he wanted to run. 

“You have a temper,” LeFou said, as calmly as he was able to with the blood rushing in his ears. “If you do not wish to consider yourself a beast, you should learn to control it.”

“You may leave,” the beast hissed, and LeFou stood, turning instantly for the front door. 

“No,” the beast said. “I meant to your room.”

“Guest, indeed,” LeFou whispered, and left. 

The stairway was cold and drafty, and LeFou shivered as his breath spiraled in front of him. The snow still fell outside, blanketing the land in a white coat, and LeFou remembered with a pang Belle’s favorite poem, the one she’d read, and then have Sophie read, each winter. 

_The air is blue and keen and cold,_  
_And in a shining sheath enrolled_  
_Each branch, each twig, each blade of grass_  
_Seems clad miraculously in glass_  
_For in that solemn silence is heard in the whisper of every sleeping thing:_  
_Look, look at me, Come wake me up for still here I'll be._

He whispered the last line to himself as he crossed the landing, casting a wistful glance towards the front door until he found himself in front of his door to his room. 

With a sigh and a longing thought towards the food he left behind, he pushed open the door and entered. 

——

LeFou didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, against the wall by the window, feeling the push and pull of the cold wind underneath the shutters, head resting on his knees. It felt like hours, it felt like days, but he was sure it was neither. 

Something was bothering him. 

He felt it, deep in his gut, the feeling of familiarity, the feeling of truth. He’d been here before, he could feel it, he’d experienced the beast’s temper before, but where?

He was pulled out of his reverie by the door to his room slowly swinging open. He scrambled to his feet and looked guardedly at the teapot—Mrs. Potts, if he remembered correctly— giving him a warm smile. 

“Hello, poppet,” she said, her voice sort of welcome in the melancholy of LeFou’s mind at the moment. “I thought you might enjoy a spot of tea? I also brought you a plate from the kitchen.” 

“The beast sent me away without food,” LeFou said, though his stomach most definitely did not care. “Won’t you get in awful trouble?”

“Unlikely,” Mrs. Potts said. LeFou hesitated a moment before reaching forward and picking up the plate. “Eat up; you look so pale.”

“Thank you, madame,” LeFou said as politely as he could manage with a mouth full of roast beef. Mrs. Potts smiled indulgently, and poured out a cup of tea. 

“Here you are,” she said. “Chamomile with honey, just the way you like it.”

“How do you know how I like my tea?” LeFou asked, a little dumbfounded. Mrs. Potts nearly froze before collecting herself. 

“I guessed, of course, you silly boy,” she said, which was clearly a lie, but LeFou could do nothing about it as she backed out of the room on her tray. “Enjoy your dinner, sweetheart. I will check on you in a bit.”

LeFou could only stare as she backed out of the room, the door latching closed quietly behind her. He sank onto the bed, food resting in his lap, and contemplated. 

She clearly knew him. That was certain. What’s more, now he was sure he had been here before. Could he possibly be under the same sort of spell everyone else was? Or could he even be dreaming?

Something in his chest cried out at that, and he frowned. 

No, this was certainly real. And getting stranger by the second. 

LeFou stood. One thing was for certain—he had to get out of here. He could not stand being trapped here another minute, he would go crazy. 

He set his plate on his bed and reached for his cloak, pulling it on and heading for the door. He didn’t care if he got eaten by wolves in the forest, he just had to go. Sophie needed him. 

He didn’t ponder on the familiarity, just pushed the door open and headed quietly for the stairs. He heard quiet sobs coming from the kitchen beneath him and paused, frowning. 

It was Mrs. Potts. 

LeFou took the stairs one at a time, wincing as they creaked, and her sobs got louder. 

“It’s him,” she cried. “I know it’s him, I know he’s the one! I can’t remember his name, but I remembered exactly how he liked his tea. He is the one, Lumiere! He is finally the one! And the rose is so close to dying! We have a chance!”

“Are you sure?” Cogsworth’s voice was next, and LeFou made it to the bottom and tip toed to the door. Mrs. Potts gave another cry, and LeFou curled his fingers around the handle. 

“I know it’s him,” Mrs. Potts said. “He’s the one.”

LeFou didn’t know what the rose dying meant or what the one was supposed to do, but he wanted zero part in it. He wanted to go home.

He pulled open the door and the icy wind knocked the air out of him. He choked, but pushed forward, squinting against the onslaught of the snow. The roaring of the wind drowned out any noise from the castle, and the snow quickly stuck to his thin cloak. 

Still, he pushed on. He had to. He had to get to Sophie. 

He couldn’t see Petit in the blizzard, couldn’t tell if he was here or if the beast had an ounce of courtesy in him and moved him inside a stable. It was irrelevant. He would have to leave Petit and return another time for him. 

He shivered uncontrollably. Every breath he drew in was like a knife in his chest. He stumbled, reached out blindly and grasped what must have been a rose bush, the thorns carving deep cuts into his hand as he collapsed, one single dark red rose clutched in his grasp, the blood seeping from his hands and staining the stem to match. 

He felt someone pick him up and tried to protest, but he was lost to the world. 

——

LeFou didn’t know if he woke up hours or years later, but he did wake up--warm,and in the bed he had been given in the castle. 

So he didn’t escape. Something in him was thankful, but a larger part of him was angry. The beast must have saved him. He should have let him die rather than remain a prisoner. 

“You’re awake.”

The beast’s voice was deep, almost kind. LeFou blinked and the beast swam into clearer vision, a book balanced on his lap, eyes watching LeFou’s every move. 

Beside him, on the table, sat a small vase with the single rose LeFou had inadvertently picked as he fell. 

“You rescued me,” was what LeFou said first, voice hoarse and rusty. “Why?”

“Nobody deserves to die of frostbite,” the beast shrugged. “Besides, I believe your horse would have mourned you.”

LeFou was quiet a moment, then glanced down at the book. 

“What are you reading?” he asked, both out of curiosity and amusement that a beast could read when LeFou could not. The beast looked down at the book as well, as if just remembering it’s existence. 

“Romeo and Juliet,” the beast said, then cleared his throat and began reading out loud. 

“Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night;  
Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die,  
Take him and cut him out in little stars,  
And he will make the face of heaven so fine  
That all the world will be in love with night.”

LeFou was quiet a moment, then spoke again. 

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered. “My favorite passage is about love and the moon.”

“Have you read it?” the beast asked, with interest, and LeFou bit his lip and shook his head. 

“I—no, I can’t read,” he said quietly, shame curling in his heart. “Belle, the library girl, she read it to me and my sister.”

“You can’t?” the beast asked. “Perhaps I could teach you?”

“I am unteachable,” LeFou said wryly. “Remember what my name is.”

“You haven’t given me your name,” and LeFou could have sworn he was actually joking around. “I could try. I’ve never met a challenge I haven’t conquered.”

“Aren’t you confident,” LeFou muttered, but he was smirking. “You may try. I would like that very much.”

“As you wish,” the beast grinned, monstrous fangs glinting in the candlelight. “Would you like to hear more?”

LeFou began to nod, but then shook his head. 

“No, actually,” he said, a little hesitant. This was going well; he really didn’t want to invoke the beast’s temper. “I wanted to…hear about the curse.”

The beast stiffened and LeFou literally counted the seconds between this breath and the next as his heart pounded.

“My curse?” the beast finally asked, tone even. LeFou nodded hesitantly. The beast squared his shoulders and stared straight ahead. 

“My curse began years ago,” he explained, voice tight. “I had everything, you know. Everything I could possibly want. Then, an enchantress arrived. She wanted my hand, but I was content with the person I was with. I refused her. She cursed me. Took away my memories of what life was like before this, removed all memories of me from the love of my life, and separated us. I have waited ever since.”

“How do you break the curse?” LeFou asked, and the beast sighed. 

“I wait for my love to return,” he said. “But that’s neither here nor there, as you are not her.”

The beast stood and LeFou swallowed hard a few times before he spoke. 

“But I remember you,” LeFou whispered. “At least, I think I do. I feel it.”

The beast was silent a moment, then spoke again. 

“When the storm passes, you may return home,” he said quietly. “Try to get some rest.”

LeFou blinked back sudden, inexplicable tears.

“Thank you,” he said suddenly. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

The beast paused for a moment, then left. 

——

The storm raged throughout the week, but LeFou felt warm in ways he hadn’t for a long time. He passed the days playing chess with Lumiere, or drinking tea with Mrs. Potts.

But his favorite time was surprisingly spent with the beast, ensconced in the library, bent over a book and learning to read. 

He was terrible, slow, but the beast praised him quietly and encouraged him as he sounded out the words, and before he knew it, he was reading a whole line out loud. 

“ _Oh teach me how I should forget to think_ ,” he read, following the words along with his finger, and he felt the grin the beast directed at him. 

“That was excellent!” the beast said. “You’re getting it!” 

LeFou gave the beast a chaste smile, feeling his cheeks grow warm. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Teaching me must have been difficult. Thank you for your time.”

“It is nothing,” the beast said quietly, which LeFou knew was a lie. “You’re a natural.”

“Hardly,” LeFou scoffed. “Still. Your time is valuable. Thank you.”

“Of course,” the beast whispered. “Try this.”

He turned a few pages and pointed to a passage, avoiding LeFou’s eyes. 

LeFou cleared his throat and began. 

“Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night;  
Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die,  
Take him and cut him out in little stars,  
And he will make the face of heaven so fine  
That all the world will be in love with night.”

LeFou trailed off after finishing the familiar passage, heart in his throat, and looked up at the beast, choking back sudden tears. 

“Monsieur,” he whispered, and the beast stood and strode to the window. 

“Do you know how it feels,” he began. “To know she’s out there somewhere? To know she doesn’t remember me? To image how little I affect her?”

“I can imagine,” LeFou said hoarsely, clutching the book to his chest. “It must hurt terribly.”

“It does,” the beast said, clenching his fist. “It aches.”

“I’m so sorry,” LeFou whispered, standing and crossing to the beast, resting a hand on his arm. The beast cleared his throat and looked down at him. 

“The storm has let up,” he said. “You should get going before it starts up again.”

“I—”

“It has been an honor to host you.”

The beast turned and LeFou felt it in his sinking heart—this was it. 

“Thank you,” LeFou whispered. “Thank you.”

LeFou turned, gathering his cloak from the bench and pausing at the door to glance once more at the beast, hunched by the window. 

“Goodbye,” he whispered, and fled. 

Outside, mounted on Petit, cloak drawn around him, he glanced back towards the castle, pretending he could see the beast. Pretending he was asking him to not go. 

The familiar pang of longing struck him again in the chest. He blinked back tears and spurred Petit on, leaving the castle behind him. 

_I am seeing Sophie again_ , he thought fiercely, pretending the tears brimming in his eyes were just from the wind instead of the ache in his heart. _I am seeing Sophie again and everything will be as it should._

Then why did he feel like his world was crumbling around him? 

He pictured the beast, hunched over and dejected. He thought about him dying alone, about him dying a beast. 

He pictured never seeing him again. 

“Woah!” he pulled on Petit’s reins, pulling him back and slowing him down. “Woah, boy. We’re turning around. I can’t leave. I can’t.”

He turned Petit around, urged him back, back towards the crumbling castle. 

“Come on,” he urged. “Come on, something is wrong!”

Petit galloped faster than LeFou had ever seen him gallop, as if he could tell the urgency in the air. The chill set in as LeFou crossed the gates, and he panted as Petit stopped by the stairs. 

“I’m coming,” he whispered, taking the steps two at a time, abandoning his cloak on the ground. “I’m coming.”

“ _Mon ami!_ ” Lumiere shouted as LeFou burst through the doors. “ _Mon ami_ , he is in the West Wing! Quickly, please, the last petal is about to fall!”

LeFou still had no idea what the rose or the petal was about but he knew he must hurry. He raced up the stairs, ignoring the pounding of his heart, towards the sign that he could read now, he could read it because of the beast, and pushed the doors open to find the beast collapsed, on the ground, beneath a glass-covered rose. Its final petal was on the verge of falling. 

“God,” LeFou whispered, rushing to his side and falling to his knees. “Please, please, wake up. Look at me.”

The beast grunted and opened his eyes, every breath labored. Still, a look of peace crossed his face as he looked at LeFou.

“You…came back,” he whispered, reaching one shaking paw up to touch LeFou’s cheek. “You’re…here.”

“I am back,” LeFou whispered back, covering the beast’s paw with his hand. “I am back. Everything is okay.”

“I’m dying,” the beast whispered. “But at least I got to see you…one last time.”

“No, you’re fine,” LeFou whispered. “Everything is fine.”

“My name is Gaston,” the beast whispered, tracing LeFou’s lips. “I’ve wanted to tell you…for so long.”

“But I haven’t told you mine,” LeFou protested. “I haven’t—”

“You don’t have to,” Gaston whispered. “Knowing you…is enough.”

“No,” LeFou whispered. “No, please!”

Gaston grew still as his last breath escaped him. LeFou couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop the tears from falling as he clutched Gaston’s now-limp paw. 

“No,” he whispered. “Please. I know you. I feel I’ve always known you, Gaston. My name is Étienne, Gaston. My name is Étienne and I love you.”

There was nothing LeFou could describe as magic, no blinding light, no glow. There was just a shift—the castle groaned and the holes in the wall that were there were gone. There were shouts from downstairs as LeFou presumed Lumiere and Cogsworth and the others were transforming back. 

And, in his arms, Gaston’s body shifted from hulking and monstrous to fit and smooth and human, and breath came back to him with a gasp as his eyes fluttered back open. 

Memories flooded back to LeFou, memories he’d long forgotten, memories of dancing in Gaston’s arms, memories of being beside him at his parties, memories of Sophie in that library. 

“You’re Prince Gaston,” LeFou whispered. “You’re Prince Gaston and I am your consort. How could I have ever forgotten you?”

“Étienne?” Gaston whispered, cupping LeFou’s face. “Étienne, it’s you?”

“It’s me,” LeFou whispered. “It’s me. I’m here.”

“You came back,” Gaston said. “Why?”

“I knew I had to,” LeFou said, voice cracking. “I couldn’t leave.”

“Étienne,” Gaston whispered, and pressed his lips to LeFou’s. 

The Prince had returned.


End file.
